Heirs of an Empire
by Grand Admiral Harmon
Summary: The Galactic Empire is in decline. It's military is all but shattered and it holds on to less then a fifth of it's original holdings. Only way to survive: make peace with the New Republic.
1. Unseen Predator

**Chapter 1: Unseen Predator**

"Everything is quiet in sector Gamma One-dash-Two," the surveillance officer called out from his screen.

"Good," the commanding officer said. He was by no means small in stature, and he was a major, as indicated by the red star-burst rank piece on his color. The major pushed a small lever on his chair which swung it to the right, towards the greenish skinned petty officer, "Continue on to Gamma One-dash-Three."

"Right away sir," the officer said, returning to the console, then said in a side murmur to the soldier at the controls, "Not that it is going to do any good."

"Aye," the silver-golden skinned Diosk said with a slow nod of his head, pushing a button to send the scanner over to the sector in question.

"If you need me," the major said, standing from his chair, "I'll be in my quarters. I'll be catching up on those letters my family sent me yesterday."

"Very good sir," the petty officer said, then he waited until the Major was gone to voice his other piece of mind, "You know, we are on one of the most boring posts in the Galaxy. This _Alderaan Shards_ hasn't seen action in five years, since Thrawn's incursion. We are merely five light-years from Coruscant, the most heavily armed place in the galaxy. Why should we stay here? We should be helping mop up the Empire for crying out loud!"

"They'll never let you go," an enlisted man called out from the side of the room, where he was fixing a screen with the map of the sector on it, "You'd probably soil your pants sir."

"Quiet Hefty," he snapped, pointing a long warning finger at him, "But really, I haven't seen combat since I joined the Republic military after Coruscant fell back in 7 ABY. I really want to get in some action before my time runs up next year."

"You have never fought the Imperials," the Diosk said, his voice going quiet, "Nor have you seen the destruction of your home world. Diosk was a peaceful place. We had never even harmed one another ever since the awakening seven centuries ago. Then came the Empire. I am one of only three survivors, and the only reason we survived was we were seventy-five light-years away on Corellia, doing transaction with the House of Iblis."

"If I may be so bold sir," the soldier said from his work, setting down a tool to grab a wrench, "The Imperials didn't hold this galaxy for so long for nothing. They are highly trained. Even now, with so much of their territory lost, what is left is pure durasteel."

"I understand that soldier. And, I am sorry that I can't fully comprehend your loss Diosk," the petty officer said, looking at the screen, "but, why are you fighting in this war? Don't you want to live out your life in peace and repopulate your species? Sounds logical even to my unenlightened mind."

"It would have been possible had not all the women of my race died out," Diosk sighed.

"Can you not breed with other species?" his comrade asked, to which he received a shake from the Diosks' head.

"I shudder at the thought," he replied, and indeed, his whole body vibrated for a second, "That's a moral sin of the highest order. And even that wasn't the case, we are not genetically compatible with other races. So, we are all dead men anyways."

Even as he turned away from the unpleasant thought, there was a suddenly bleep on the scanners. At first the Diosk did not realize it, but the second bleep brought him to his senses. He looked really closely at it, and saw a third bleep, and for half a second, he saw a red narrow triangular shape on the scanners. Then, it vanished entirely.

"Hmm," he muttered to himself, "That's odd."

The petty officer, sitting now on the back of the swivel chair behind him, called out, "What's up?"

"For a couple seconds I saw a ship on our radar," he said, tapping on the radar screen, "then suddenly it vanished."

"It's probably nothing," the man said.

"I swear it was there," the alien said, holding the palms of his hands up in exasperation.

"It might have been a sensor ghost," the petty officer replied, "Stuff like that happens, especially so close to the hyperspace lanes into the Core. Don't worry about it. Everything will be fine."

Most of the power on the station was off, with the lights dimmed to a dark nothing. The only things running were some wall lights that shown a very faint illumination in the darkness. The scanners were also running, showing and glowing blue in the darkness.

Out of the four man garrison assigned to this post, only the Bothan remained awake. His fur seemed to block the light from the systems to any eyes that might be watching. The bothan had just come back with a mug of liquids, and he had barely sat down. He took a sip out of his steaming cup and recoiled as the heat scolded his lips and tongue.

_Kriff! _he angrily thought to himself as he blew on the liquid _Why do humans have to make things so scolding hot?_

There was a thump, soft but distinct in the darkness. The Bothan didn't take much notice to it beyond calling out, "You won't scare me tonight Jartm. Your pranks won't work on me."

He was not responded to, much to his annoyance. Humans were jerks and idiots in his opinion. They cared more about a good prank then seriousness. And when you try to call them out, they act as if they didn't hear you. Made him angry to no end.

Then, his ears picked up multiple feet, trying to walk as silent as the grave. His highly sensative ears could pick up twelve distinct feet, which in the dark and his enhanced hearing, seemed to ricochet off the walls like the battering rams of hell. _What the kriff is going on?_

But he heard the discipline, the continued rythm of steps. Republic troops did not sound that way when they walked. Only one type of soldiers did so.

He felt his way to his blaster on his side, and slowly stood, pulling it out of the leather holster. The flap of the holster silently flopped back down, which he usually was annoyed about. But, he was a veteran of Endor and the mission to retrieve the plans for the Second Death Star. He was a soldier, of the Elite Commando Force, and these Imperials were dealing with the wrong garrison.

He turned on his comlink and tapped the voice piece three times and after a second, there was two taps in return. The Diosk was also up. The major and the petty officer were themselves not part of the Elite Commandos, but, they were good people by nature. The Diosk would ensure they would wake up, indeed, it was good that Diosks had no need for sleep, but entered a meditation phase when needing to regenerate their bodies.

He tapped and scratched the top of the comlink, a signal of intruders, then rapidly tapped it twelve times. In return came three clicks, that said 'that's not good.' He tapped then slid his finger across the mouthpiece, the signal that he would take out a couple of the intruders. There was a slight crackle that came from it; their comlinks were being jammed.

Three persons were deviating from the main group, who were branching off in four directions. Two were heading for the garrison quarters, and the other for the generators. The last group was heading his direction, as his ears could tell. He sidestepped across the room, and backed against a closet. He opened the door quietly and closed the door behind him.

Three heavy boots could now be heard, walking into the room. After a second, he could hear laughter. "Fools," one of the Imperials said, "They left their control room abandoned. These rebels are sloppy."

"Silence!" another soldier hissed, "These rebels didn't abandon this room."

"What?" the other one asked.

"They used this same tactic at Nal Shadda," the other, probably an officer said, "They hide in plain sight, camouflaging themselves. Those blasted Bothans are good."

"You're right sir," another voice said, "The scanners pick up traces of someone being here recently. Barely a minute ago."

There was silence now, and the three men started to quietly hunt around the room. Had they not spoken, they wouldn't have had been so easy targets. But, they were mistaken. One of them approached the closet, and he tapped on the door with the barrel of his gun. He slowly opened the door, but he had barely opened it when the Bothan struck.

He fired a shot, which caught the Imperial square in the mask of his helmet, and as he fell, the other Imperials turned and began to rack the closet with laser fire. But the Bothan was already out. He grabbed the larger Imperial, held him up as a shield, and charged across the room, using the body to ward off the bolts. The Imperial he was after fired so rapidly, that he ran out of energy before the Bothan struck, and throwing the body aside, grabbed the Imperial by the head and turned his head, breaking his neck.

The other Imperial had dived behind the control chair, using it to shield himself from the Bothan. The Bothan fired a couple shots, pinning him down, but he also had to dive behind a table when the Imperial jumped up and sprayed the wall where he had been standing.

Now on his hands and knees, he could look under the other table, and he could see the feet of the man, who was popping off a few more rounds. _What the kriff am I doing? _He took out a thermal detonator and threw it at the Imperial. The Imperial seeing the detonator roll towards him, rolled to the floor, firing away as he rolled. But, now that he was out in the open, and a single blast took him out, striking him in the back.

_The fool didn't even realize I didn't set the detonator,_ he said, and pushing himself out from under the table stood. He ran over to his unactivated dentonator, hearing laser fire now in the corridor, signaling that his comrades were awake and defending the base. He ran out of the room, and almost ran into two Imperials that were huddled behind a crate. They were too busy shooting down the hall to react to the Both that shot them in the back of the head execution style. The Bothan dropped to one knee, checked his ammo, and prepared to move on down the hallway, and continue the assault from behind.

But, he heard a snap-hiss of a lightsaber and the last thing he would hear was a cold voice hiss, "Long Live the Empire."


	2. Decline of an Empire

**Chapter 2: Decline of an Empire**

Moff Tyron sat in his chair, looking at the hologram in front of him. Supreme Admiral Balan stood there, clearly distracted by the commotion going on in the ship he was on. Tyron waited for him to continue his report, his fingers stroking his clean-shaven chin.

Tyron was fifty-five standard years old. He had been alive to see the Clone Wars as a teenager while he grew up on Scanty Station, a poor space port on Alder Nine. Tyron had gone to the Imperial Academy when it first opened and had gained some distinction for his explorations in the Unknown Regions, adding two percent of the complete knowledge of the Galaxy at large. His last action had been a minor skirmish with the Ssi-ruvi who attempted to take control of Gorgon, but his fast hit-hard tactics had forced them to pull back.

He had then been offered by Thrawn when he took control of the Empire a position of Moff. He had taken it without much adieu, humbled by the fact that Thrawn, head of the Empire had seen fit to give him such a perstiges position. But now, three years after Thrawn Reign, he was no longer a member of a group number 50. Merely seven member remained of the Council and he was no longer impressed with his position in the Empire.

And now, he was the head of all military operation currently going on throughout the Galaxy. A war which he was slowly loosing and knew it.

"_We've captured all the outposts leading straight to Coruscant_," Balan finally said, after angrily dismissing his first officer.

"How was resistance?" Tyron asked.

"_Not too heavy_," Balan replied, "_Most of it was scattered at best and they didn't even have time to send distress signals._"

"Good," Tyron said with a smile, "Now tell me, did you conduct the recon like I asked you too?"

"_Yes sir_," Balan replied, an aide handing him a datapad which he signed and waved off, "_The defenses are most impressive sir. Casualties will be high, even if we took them by surprise_."

"What about the secondary targets?" Tyron prodded, "Will they be a great nuisence?"

"_This plan won't work unless we have everyone in place going as they are suppose to,_" Balan said, sounding a bit disdainful of his comrades abilities to do their part, "_But I think it can be done."_

"If we are ever going to win this war it has to be through well-timed attacks," Tyron said, "and our defenses to hold firm. Hold there at _Alderaan Shards_ until I give the greenlight."

"_Yes sir_," Balan said, and saluting said, "_Long Live the Empire_."

"Long Live the Empire," Tyron said, and pushing a button ended the transmission.

He started to lean back in his chair, glad that call was over. He didn't like Balan, despite his political victory by bringing the different factions of the Empire together. He felt in his bones Balan wanted nothing less then complete control of the Empire.

He closed his eyes for a second, rubbing his eyelids. He had been up since 600 hours, and he was tired. He opened them just in time to see a red light that started to blink almost immediatly and sighing he leaned forward and pushed the comlink button. General Dallaz appeared, but he didn't look very good. Even in the holograph he was visibly dirty.

"This had better be good news General," Tyron warned, although he could already tell he wasn't going to like what he heard, "your position is key to an entire sector."

"_I am sorry to report a heavy task fleet of Republic ships attacked my sector while we were conducting war games_," General Dallaz said with a heavy voice, "_Their attack was perfect and we were unable to switch from our weapons from safe-mode to active_."

"How long ago was this?" Tyron asked.

"_Six hours ago_," Dallaz said.

"What is the status of the Twelth Fleet?" Tyron inquired.

"_The entire fleet was captured along with Eleventh, which was conducting needed repairs at Caluula Spacedocks_," Dallaz replied and a heavy explosion could be heard in the background.

"You lost two entire fleets?" Tyron asked quietly and coldly and even on the other end of the line General Dallaz knew he was in trouble.

"_Yes sir_," he said sadly.

"Why were not ships out on patrol?" Tyron asked softly, "They could have warned your fleets in advance of the attack."

"_A recon three days ago reported no activities in the Rebel space_," Dallaz tried to defend himself.

"The Cornese Mandate is very crucile to the Perlemian Trade Route which supplies half of our Empire with much-needed supplies," Tyron said very slowly, "And you relied upon three day old data? You fool. What do we still control?"

"_Lianna and Ossus_," Dallaz replied with some sort of pride, "_My boys will fight to the last man_."

"You better be that last man," Tyron said, "because if they capture those planets they can strike at Belderone, Kulthis and Rhen Var. Although, your loss of the planet Rudrig and Raxus allows them easy access to Vaynai. The cut in our supplies will make half of our Empire suffer and will open such a breach in our defenses we will have no choice but to pull out of there entirely."

"_Our defense will be so brilliant they will have to make me a hero_," Dallaz replied with a weak laugh. Blasterfire could now be heard from down the hall Dallaz was standing in, and he turned around and shouted, "_You three! Join the defense near the door_!"

"You lost us sixteen percent of our entire fleet in six hours!" Tyron hissed at him, "My entire gameplan for this upcoming Campaign is now in shambles, because I am going to have to redeploy forces from other fronts. If you live you will be executed on sight."

And with that he pushed a button and turned the transmission off.

* * *

><p>Tyron lived near the War Office on Bastion and so he was walking today. There was no need to rush anyways, it wasn't like the Emperor was alive to come make a personal visit. He had worked fast, peeling off Pealleon's Third Fleet from it's course towards their jump off point at Gala where they would join in the assault against the Core Worlds and sent them quickly to Rhen Var, where from there they would hold until the ships from the Sixth and Fifth fleets that he had pulled from those fleets could plug the gap near Vaynai.<p>

This was a nightmare he never seemed to wake up from. These were the best the Empire had to offer? They were boys compared to the greatness of the old commanders. The best commander out there right now was Pealleon, he at least could perhaps retake the vital Cornese Mandate without much loss. But losses would still be incured.

When he had taken command of all Imperial Military Opertations, there had still been one hundred twenty thousand Star Destroyers, one million support ships and five hundred million troops in the Empire. But now, there was less then twelve thousand Star Destroyers, three hundred thousand support ships and ten million troops. The Empire was losing this war, and the attack on the Core Worlds was almost now where it should be scrapped.

He walked through the streets and passed the masses of humans and aliens that populated this world. Many held up flimsy signs on street corners that said, "End the War!" "Make Peace!" "We're Doomed!" Many threw him harsh glances and he passed by a long bearded old man, who sat on the ground, a stormtrooper infront of him, credits pilled inside. A sign hung from his neck that said, "_Served at Hoth and Endor. Lost my leg at Dathomire. Now broke. Any Credits will do fine._"

He dropped three credits in, and the man looked at them with glee and looking up saw his benefactor. His lips twisted in rage and he shouted, "How many more of us have to die before you listen to reason Moff! The Empire is dying because of people like you!"

As he said this, a stormtrooper squad came up, and two men peeled off. They marched up to him, knocking over the helmet and the credits that had filled it poured over the ground. The man desperatly tried to grab the scattered credits but two sets of hands siezed him by the arms pits and lifted him and saying, "Let's go" carried him off, his shouting curses at Moffs and Grand Admirals and the like shrinking as they got further and further away.

He had been rooted to the spot as this had transpired. Not out of shock or pity though. He did because he realized the truth in the man's words.

He walked up to his apartment and way sliding the key through the door when he saw one of the cildren from one of the lower floors come walking up to him purposefully. He looked over at her in amausement as she walked up to him and tugged his pant legs. He looked down at the shinning face of the girl and he knelt down, putting his hand on one knee, now being able to look her straight in the face.

"Why hello little one," Tyron asked, "How are you today?"

"I'm ok," she said, "When can my daddy come home?"

He looked at her with a kind smile and said, "What does your daddy do?"

"He's a TIE Pilot," she said proudly, "He flies near Mom Istallashun."

He knew what she meant. She meant Maw Installation. He must be part of the Special Forces. Their current assignment was to find weak points in the Republic Forces that they could exploit.

""You must be proud of him," Tyron said, "You love your daddy very much don't you."

"Mommy says Daddy loves me," she said sadly, "But I don't think so. I think he only likes to kill people."

"Why would you say such a thing?" Tyron asked in surprise.

"He never has come to see me," she said with tears starting to come from her eyes, "He didn't even see me get born. All he does is stay away and fight and kill people. Mommy told me killing is bad."

"Your mother is a wise woman," Tyron said, with a sad smile, "It isn't right to kill people. But sometimes, to protect other people, some people have to die."

"I just want my daddy to see me and never leave," the girl said and starting to cry. She threw herself at him, throwing her arms around him. Tyron was a little stunned and uncomfortable. He had never been good with children, and after a few awckward seconds put his hand on her back and started to pat it.

"I am sorry Moff," a womans voice came and he looked up to see a woman come running up to him, "I told Ariel to stay on the Second Level."

"No worries my dear," he said, picking up the girl and handing her to her mother, "She had a question to ask. She wanted to know when her daddy would be coming home. What is the father's name? I can have him take a two week furlough."

The woman looked at him. Not with anger or guilt, but something that chilled him more. Just a cold deadness to her. Her hands around her child seemed to grow limp, and he was afraid she was going to drop her daughter.

"He died a year ago near Ord Mantell," she said softly, "Fighting to allow you time to escape to Bastion. This war will never end until we are all dead, isn't it?"

He couldn't answer as she turned and walked away, her daughter still shuddering from the sobs she poured out.

* * *

><p><em>"And in other news today, polls were taken to see what the percentage was for people wishing to continue the war with the New Republic."<em>

_"Excuse me Sorj. It's Rebel Alliance, not New Republic."_

_"You are quiet right Marx. At any rate, The polls are 65% are for continuing the war effort, while 35% say, let's just be done and over with."_

_"Those were the Galactic idiots right."_

_"You got that right Marx."_

"Not again," Maach Zerno said as he put his drink on the table.

"What's that?" Tyron asked, looking up from his datapad.

"I'm head of the Population Committee that does those ridiculous polls when you aren't here," Maach said, "And they again switch the numbers. Only thirty-five percent are for carrying on the war. Sixty-five percent are against it."

"The news is nothing more then a political tool to get the current Imperial Standpoint across," Tyron said distantly, "If you want, I can stay home and you can attend to your servant duties more often."

"I think I'm fine," the man said.

Maach Zerno was no ordinary person; his blue scales on his hands and ears a clear indicator of that. He was a Hisok, a member of a race on some planet that Tyron had no idea nor any real intrest in finding out about. It was very different for people to see an alien running around with let alone be living in the same apartment as a Grand Moff, considering the hyped up xenophobia of the Empire. Truely though, ever since the Emperor died, slavery in the Empire had declined by seventy-two percent.

_"And tonight's story for "Rebel Lines" is about the upcoming wedding between General Wedge Antilles and his fiance, the ravishing Reina Faleur. It's only two weeks away."_

_"Although you can tell why Antilles married that girl right?"_

_"Because she does have got herself-"_

_"Sorj, there are children watching this as well."_

_"But we adults all got that right?"_

"She's quiet a babe," Maach commented out loud and Tyron looked up at the screen and his eyes widened.

"So that's where you are," he smiled to himself, "I might just have to pay you a visit my dear."

"Hey Boss," Maach asked, "When are you going to marry that one chick? Ysanne Isard."

"She's dead you idiot," Tyron threw a sharp glance at his servant, "And for that you can also clean the windows a second time."

Maach stood up and bowing said, "Right away Boss man."

Tyron rolled his eyes and Maach walked to leave the room. He stopped suddenly and hesitated said, "You know what I want?"

"What's that?" Tyron said, his eyes having returned to his datapad.

"To return to Hiosk my homeworld for even a day and see my family again," he said.

"You have every fourteenth to seventeenth days off," Tyron said, "You could go back to see them then."

"Hiosk is in Republic territory," Maach said sadly, "and you know as well as I do that you can't cross the boundaries without an entire fleet to bear down on you."

"True," Tyron said, "But they probably enjoy being outside of Imperial control."

"Actually, they want back in," Maach said, turning back to him, "It was Lord Vader himself who drove the Hutts and Trandoshians off our planet. He put our planet as a slave exempt planet, as he did with so many. We honor the Empire, for they rebuilt us."

Tyron had looked up, stunned by such a revelation. He had never dreamed any planets would actually want to be back in the Empire once they got out. Could it actually be true? He leaned back and mulled it over in his head.

"Vader as you know had an aversion to slavery and particullarly hit the Toydarians and Hutts pretty hard," Tyron remarked, "I've always wondered why."

"I've heard he started out as a slave," Maach said, to which his master threw back his head and roared with laughter at the absurdity of such a notion. The greatest force in history being a slave? That was so pathetic it was stupid and unlikely.

"If only more planets would be as willing as Hiosk," Tyron said, with a humorless chuckle, "It would be worth having a ceasefire with the Republic."

"Believe me sir," Maach said with all sincerity, "There are a lot of planets who feel the same way. Well, I'll get to those windows. You know how dirty they can get."


	3. The Wedding Day

**Chapter 3: The Wedding Day**

"General Skywalker," a soldier outside a door in a hallway said, rapping on the door with his knuckles.

"I'll be ready in a second," a voice behind the door shouted.

"But you don't have a second!" the soldier exclaimed, "You need to be there early."

Luke Skywalker bent over the dresser, gripping it in a tight grip. He was getting very weary of every one being so concerned of his doing and goings. He just wanted to be left alone. Why couldn't they just leave him the Sith Spit alone?

_Did I make a mistake taking a commission?_ He wondered to himself for at least the twelth time this year. Ever since the Triculus Terror Campaign in 7 ABY, he had been a general. But, should he have done what Han had done? He had resigned his commission barely four years after getting it in order to convince Leia of just how dedicated he was to marrying her.

He took one glance at himself in the mirror and decided that staying around here was pretty pointless. He was dressed his usual black garb, the garb of a Jedi Master, or at least he hoped it was. So much about the Jedi he wished he knew. What their training entailed, what was their rules about marriage, and so forth.

"Alright," he said, "I will be coming."

He rolled his eyes. Time to please the mob. Not that he much cared for such things.

"Threepio," he called out, "Artoo, time to be going."

There was a clanking and thud as the protocol droid came staggering out of the side room, almost as a drunk. 3PO said, "Curse you Artoo, always such a bother. Watch where your rusty wheels go."

Artoo let out a disapproving bleep at him.

"What is-" Luke started, then thinking better of it, said instead, "Stop it guys, we need to get to the wedding."

"We're coming Master Luke," Threepio said, steadying himself, "Artoo has been carrying on about-"

"Another time Threepio," Luke cut him off, "we must get to the wedding."

Artoo gave a few beeps but Luke didn't catch them. His mind was focused on other things. The door opened and they walked out the room and into the stone hallways that would lead to the great chambers, where the marriage would be held.

Two guards flanked him as they walked. One was a Taung from Mandalore, who had been assigned to him recently and didn't talk very much. The other was a Bakurian. Del For was a intriguing character on his own accord. Bakurians had a religious aversion to the Jedi Knights, and probably more important, they were a pro-Imperial people. They did however seem to be more friendly to the New Republic then other worlds. It did help that the Alliance had come to their aid and saved them from a dirty deal signed between the Emperor Palatine and the Ssi-ruuk.

The man had given everything up to be here though. His father was Governor Gilak, the governor of Bakura. His mother was a teacher at the Imperial Academy on Ossus. His sister was married to an Imperial admiral. He had rejected his family for his convictions.

As they walked, they passed by, to Luke's surprise, the Chief-of-State Borsk Fey'lya. He was followed six guards, armored in red and orange full body uniforms and carrying laser rifles. Surprisingly, he was not shadowed by half a dozen delegates wanting to courier favor with the commander in chief.

Borsk saw Luke and fell in line beside him, shoving Del For out of the way, who did not look happy at being treated such.

"Well, well," the Bothan his fur rising in gentle surprise, "What do we owe the presence of Luke Skywalker here today?"

"I am here for the wedding," Luke shrugged, "But it is your presence that is surprising. I didn't think you care much about weddings."

Fey'lya's fur again raised in gentle surprise, "My dear general, are we not all suppose to be happy for General Antilles and his blushing bride?"

"Well, yes, bu-"

"Well then," he said, putting an arm around his shoulders, "What better way for me to show my appreciation for his services to the Republic then? After all, it is not every day a man can get married."

"I suppose," Luke said, but something did feel wrong to him.

Borsk Fey'lya was not a man know to be a friendly person. It was also known that Wedge and Borsk hated each other. Why was he all of a sudden concerned about being to Wedge's wedding?

And the guards, they didn't walk like most soldiers of the Republic. They walked almost as Imperials. Which really, when Luke thought about it, wasn't all that odd. Many soldiers in the Republic were ex-Imperial troops.

"So Fey'lya," he said, as they arrived to the doors to the grand chamber, a grand wedding theme being played from what sounded like an blue-skinned Ortlan on a red ball organ, "I like the Imperial style your guards march in. Is this new standard procedure?"

Borsk's hair flared up in sudden anger. "How my guards act is strictly up to me and not to you. I happen to like the efficiency of the Imperial Guard."

With that, they pushed open the door, and walked in. To find everyone at blaster point by Imperial Commandos wearing ysalamari. Even the Ortlan was playing at the point of a blaster which was shoved to his temple. Luke barely had time to react before the guards of the Chief-of-State pointed their blasters at him and Luke felt the hard barrel of a blaster pistol being shoved into his side by none other then Fey'lya.


	4. Moff Tyron

**Chapter 4: Moff Tyron**

Their weapons were taken from them and restraining bolts were placed onto Artoo, despite his attempts to bolt free and along with C-3PO, who protested with a winny, "Don't hurt me, I'm only a droid."

"Shut up golden rod," the stormtrooper restraining him said, "Or I'll blast you into a hundred pieces."

Almost as if to prove his point, a blaster shot rang out and the Ortlan slumped forward onto the organ, the key making a horrible crash and klank as he slid sideways off the keys, his fall pronunciated by a horrible selection of notes, as if Death itself had decided to play a funeral dirge. C-3PO had been subject to being blasted into pieces by Imperials before to know it wasn't a bluff. He quieted down without delay.

"I always did wonder when your true colors would be shown," Luke said to Borsk as they were shoved into the room, "What is this about Fey'lya? Or are you not him at all?"

"Oh, he's not your precious Chief-of-State," a tall man said, walking from behind the altar, where the Holy Man lay bleeding on the floor, a knife sticking from his jugular, "But, indeed, you did a well job Jorsk Sey'lya. We could never have captured Skywalker and his droids without additional help from a clone."

"He's a clone?" Wedge demanded, from the other side of the room, his arms being held by a soldier behind him. He struggled to burst free but the

"Silence fool!" he shouted, and with a twitch of his fingers Antilles was butted in the stomach with the barrel of the plaster pistol in his captors hands, "I will speak only to Skywalker."

Luke glanced over at Wedge and noticed a thin trickle of bloo falling from his nose. But Tyron motioned to the guards and Luke was led to the side room where the Holy Man would have been preparing if he had not been so violently killed. Once they had entered the room, the Imperial waved his hand and the guards left the room, leaving Luke and himself all alone, the door closing behind them. Luke looked around and wondered why this Imperial would call away his guards. Foolish move.

He picked up the wedding registry and looked at it for a second before dropping it. "I am sorry about the Holy Man," the tall man said, not looking at Luke yet, "I didn't realize Holy Men carry assualt rifles though. Is this a standard regulation here in the Republic?"

"No, but it seems with good reason he did," Luke accused.

"Indeed," the man muttered, walking behind the desk and looking at the Holy Man's certificate, "The Ortlan was collateral damage. Had to make this raid look legit."

"Who are you?" Luke demanded, "Why this raid on a wedding day?"

"I'll answer the last one first," he answered, "Your defenses were obviously down or else I couldn't have apprehended you so easily, but the raid is more of a ruse than anything else. Also, my name is Moff Tyron."

"The Pro-Republic Faction Leader of the Empire," he gasped, not believing his ears.

"I am head of the Imperial Military Operations," Tyron replied coldly, "Who says I am head of a Pro-Republic Faction?"

"Everyone here in the New Republic says you would willing sell all you had for peace," Luke said, then after a second added sourly, "Or do anything."

"An exaggeration to be sure," Tyron snorted.

"Why the break-in then?" Luke asked, feeling a little suspicious about it, "Why all the subterfuge?"

"You must have wooden ears Skywalker," Tyron said, looking very serious, "I told you it was a ruse. Believe me, the Republic would not want me stopping a wedding to talk to you. Nor would the Empire. No one would actually."

"Why not?" he asked.

"Because what I have to talk to you about is of utmost importance," Tyron said, finally turning around to Luke, now warming to his point.

"And what is that?" Luke asked, feeling the restraints on his wrist holding him in place.

"The Galaxy needs peace," he told him, "Every time the Empire thinks it is winning this war, things reverse. We have less than a fifth of our Empire left. And since the loss of Grand Admiral Sardonis, the Empire is in no position to win the war. We know that."

"How many?" Luke asked.

"Most of the Moff Council realize this but are too stubborn to admit it," he replied, "and most of the Imperial population is ready for this war to end. Too many people have died. I want this war to end, I have lost my entire family over the course of these fourteen years of war. And peace won't happen as long as the war loving Fey'lya and Moff Geron are in command of the New Republic and Galactic Empire."

"Are you planning on killing them?" Luke asked wistfully.

"No way," he laughed out loud, "I am a political idealist. Not a murderer. I-" he then looked at Skywalker, "No, I need you to become Chief-of-State."

Luke's jaw dropped. Was he hearing him correctly? This was difinently not how he imagined any conversation with an Imperial to be headed. Destroyer of the First Death Star and the rumored murderer of Darth Vader and Emperor Palpatine. He knew the stories and had even been sent a link by Lando Calrissian with a political address by an Imperial Official denying that Vader joined the rebels before he died and that Luke in fact pulled off the helmet of his "supposed father" and caused him to die by asphyxiation and that Palpatine was indeed alive and doing well.

"Jedi do not get involved in politics," he stated bluntly.

"Oh, please," Tyron said indignitally, "You are involved with it. You're a general. Is not the military nothing more than a tool for politicians to impose their political views on others?"

"Don't remind me," he shuddered.

"And even if you didn't become Chief-of-State your sister would work too," Tyron suggested, "Either one of you would work."

"She does understand the workings of government," Luke admitted, "But what of Geron?"

"I am going to get an get a new head of state elected," Tyron said, "One that would favor peace with you."

Luke nodded. "Who would that be exactly?" he asked.

Tyron smiled slyly, "Wouldn't you like to know. Why not ask your spies about it?"

Luke shrugged, "Our spy network has all but gone silent. Seems someone has been tracking them down successfully. Don't know who though."

"Don't look at me Skywalker," Tyron shrugged, sitting down on the table, "Our Intelligence has, as you very well know, gone downhill since Endor."

Luke didn't like the sound of that at all. Who could be so successful at hunting down spies of the Republic? What Tyron said was true. It was a known fact that the Imperial Intelligence had suffered heavily during the war.

His thoughts were interrupted by Tyron who asked, "Do we have an agreement?"

Luke thought for a second. This would be good for all. And he wanted it. War needed to end and soon.

"Yes," he said.

Tyron sighed in relief. "Good," he said, "Expect us to report in a couple months."

"I'll do my best on this end," Luke said.

Tyron nodded and headed for the door. Taking out a remote, he pushed a button and the restraints popped off and flew to him which he caught with an outstretched hand. Suddenly he stopped and said, "Oh, and, General Antilles' girl, what is her name again?"

"Reina Faleur," Luke said.

"Her real name is Callista Jiller Ha," he said.

Luke's eyes widened, "Adol Ha's wife?" he asked in disbelief, "He's been dead for years."

"Her husband isn't dead I can assure you," Tyron informed him, "and she's coming with us. She's a fugitive from the law. Oh, and do you have any idea where Ha is living?"

"She might not go so easily," Luke said, "And no, I had no idea he was alive."

"Oh come now," Tyron snapped, "I know for a fact you helped him escape Hoth. I also know you rescued him from Telran Four during the Death Watch attempt to kidnap him. So don't play the innoncent act with me Skywalker. Where is he hiding?"

"Sorry," Luke said, folding his arms, "Indeed, I do know where he is. But Ha and I are old friends. And that woman is not Callista. She's a clone that Ha had made to fool you."

Tyron shook his head, "Kriff you Skywalker. If it wasn't the fact I need this peace, I would kill you myself. I might be head of the Pro-Peace faction, but I am not a fan of your New Republic. As a Jedi I thought you were a guardian of peace and justice. Not just one or the other."

"Tyron," Luke said quietly, "I have witnessed Imperial Justice before. My aunt and uncle had never once committed a crime against the Empire. You know what their wrong was? Buying some droids. Those droids out there that I own. And I have seen the justice played on a peaceful planet that was destroyed just to break a woman who happens to be my sister. No other reason then that. I loathe your justice Moff, but I know you are a good man and I hope you change things."

Moff Tyron stood silent for a second then marched out of the room. Luke followed him out, and watched as Wedge's fiancé was being taking away by the Imperials. Wedge fought fiercely to break out of his captors grasp. But, it was to no avail.

"Stop!" he shouted, "Reina! Reina!"

Luke walked over to him. "Wedge," he said, "I will explain everything later."


	5. And All My Glory Forgotten

Chapter 5: And All My Glory Forgotten

If anyone had looked upon him now, few would have recognized him as General Jan Dodonna. Ex-General Dodonna that was. And if he wasn't, he should have been. When he had served the Empire, Dodonna had never had much use for Corellian Ale. Truthfully, he had never even touched the stuff until he began to doubt the loyalty with which he served that Empire. How easy it had made the decision to grow the then recently formed Rebel Alliance.

Even then, however, he had never been a heavy drinker. Not even when he joined the Rebel Alliance and met such people as Han Solo, Luke Skywalker, Garm Bel Ibilis did he take to the drink heavily. But now, very rarely did he not spend the night at the bar. Forgotten and tossed aside by the new upstarts of the Republic. The New Republic which would not even exist if he had not been here. It was his mastermind that won Yavin IV. He who executed the perfect getaway from the moon. But the young never did appreciate what their elders did for them.

Dodonna lay slumped against the table, a cup rocking back and forth gentle in his hands. He kept his eyes firmly glued to the cup, despite his drunken stupor he found himself in at the moment. It was in a way comforting to him to see the swirling motion of the half drunk liquid. In it he could forget the loneliness, the broken oaths, the betrayals. Not only those directed towards him, but also his own.

"Well, well, well," a man at the table three tables over said, turning to look at him, "The Great General Dodonna. The Wizard. Victor of Yavin IV and the Exodus. Now nothing more than a drunken, slobbering fool."

Dodonna raised his eyes and looked over. The man was a Chiss, his dark blue skin in great contrast to his glowing red eyes. His comrade by his, a Zabarak, chuckled at the insults thrown at him. Several others, a Twi'lek couple in a corner, a Wookie by the bar, a Rodian on the next table turned to look, chuckling at the heckling of the old man. Could they not leave him alone?

"Why don't you go back to your blue momma and return to your crib?" Dodonna asked, knowing he shouldn't allow himself to take the bait, "It'd be worthier of your self-ridden time."

The Chiss stood up and the bar-tender, a long necked Kaminoan, threw a wary eye in their direction. The Chiss staggered up to Dodonna, drunk as a rancor on a feeding frenzy, and soon was standing so close to Dodonna the very stench turned his stomach. Dodonna didn't flinch, he had suffered worse fates. And from men that he knew and deemed to be more worthy then this punk.

"How about I wipe that smirk off your face?" the Chiss said, "I am Jarko Okraj of the House Okraj. My family is one of the most powerful of the Chiss Ascendancy."

"Is that name suppose to be anything to me?" Jan asked with a derisive snort, "The Chiss are nothing but a bunch of backwards snarks."

"We beat the Empire," he smiled in drunken confidence, "No Imperial Fleet ever desecrated CHiss territory."

"Actually," Jan replied with a chuckle, "Yes, a task force did enter Chiss space. And the only Chiss who wasn't a coward enough to hide from the Empire and actually fought them ended up working for them. Ironic isn't it?"

"I should pummel you into a bloody pulp!" the Chiss barked.

"I've had worse at the hands of the Empire," Jan laughed hysterically in his own drunken state, "And from men far better then you."

"You old timers are all the same," Jarko said slapping a hand on the table, causing the liquid in Dodonna's cup to jump, "'We won the war', 'we formed the Republic', 'we drove the Empire away'. You know what I say? Fiddlesticks!" He snapped his finger in Dodonna's face.

"Just because your life is nothing more then bantha poodoo," Dodonna smirked, "Doesn't mean you can foul up the lives of us who really have had to face real life. You think I wanted to be tortured by the Empire? Or see millions die at my command? If needs be Chiss, I can order a hundred cruisers to your home world and destroy it."

Next Dodonna knew, he was flying across the room against the wall. He hit a table hard, upturning it, throwing the Ithorian woman sitting there against the wall as well. He didn't even have time to think before the Chiss was pulling him up by his arms, pinning them against his side, and after head butting him, threw him against the floor.

Dodonna slowly raised his head to see the Chiss raise his boot to stomp down and sighed out loud. Perhaps this chump would save him a lot of trouble. A blaster rang out, and the Chiss screamed as he toppled backwards and slammed against the nearest table, flipping it over him. Smoke billowed from his chest like from an ancient factory.

Dodonna looked up and saw the massive form of Bel Garm Iblis marching into the room, his old Umbarian blaster smoking as he aimed it at another alien, whose hand had strayed a little too close to his blaster. Another shattering shot was fired, and the aliens eyes blew out of his skull and it was caved in by the absurdly large bolt of laser.

"Another one want to mess with two living legends?" Garm bellowed.

"Who are you?" shouted an alien reaching for his own blaster.

"I'm the party pooper," Gram snarled and swung his blaster around.

Never had Dodonna see someone dive away from his seat as fast as possible and he watched the chair explode as Iblis shot it. Pieces of metal flew all over the room, pelting patrons. No one wished to stay and their was a stamped towards the exits and soon the room cleared out. No one was going to face the wrath of the Corellian General.

"I thought not," Garm snarled and pointing a blaster to the barkeep said, "This bar is now closed."

The bartender followed the directive and fled the room. The general stood over the fallen form of his friend until the room was cleared. And even then, he stood, blaster at the ready, neither looking left nor right. But letting his trained ears do all the looking for him. Finally, after two long minutes of silence, Garm holstered his blaster and bent down, putting a hand on Dodonna.

"Why old friend?" Garm asked, "Why sink so low?"

"Because," Dodonna said, still lying on the ground, "No one cares about us."

"Then we make them care," Garm said. And with that, he lifted his friend off the ground, and putting a reassuring arm around the old man's shoulders, walked out of the cantina.


	6. Military Presence

**Chapter 6: Military Presence**

The staging area around Zendo Nark, also called _Shards of Alderaan_, looked nothing like the old outpost of the New Republic. Despite being captured and no one on the strike team that assault the outpost knowing the codes to keep the station running, the original garrison had set their transmissions to be automatic, continually repeating the same "All Clear" message. But, everything was certainly not so alright.

Stormtrooper battalions marched in unison off their Star Destroyers, which compared to the almost asteroid-like typography and little atmosphere, seemed to be like giant daggers laid out by some forgotten giant on a table. The battalions headed off towards camoflauged bunkers that had been quickly thrown up over the past two weeks by engineers. The bunkers looked nothing more then rocks jutting from the already rock strewn landscape.

Squadrons of twelve TIE Fighters screamed along the surface, weaving around the rock pillars that jutted up from the landscape, patrolling continually for any survivors of the garrison that might not have been on the base at the time, and keeping a lookout for any Republic fighters that might stray too close to them. A massive Star Destroyer of the new _Palpatine_-Class dwarfed the landscape, barely in the atmosphere but just a look up at it could tell the long slender destroyer was anything but a diplomatic ship.

The patrols themselves were merely a precaution. The Star Destroyers were set up with the new Stealth 1 cloaking device. They were experimental, and despite the ability of the ships to now at least be able to see vague shapes of ships on their sensors, could not have them activated in hyperspace. To do so would almost be suicidal.

And standing on a balcony, overlooking the task force taking a twelve hour rest period before the assault began, was one of the masterminds of _Operation: Imperial Return_. Supreme General Derk Grant looked upon what was proceeding as scheduled and for a moment was taken back to the days of the Empire's height and glory and prestige. Looking down upon it he was reminded of the day when he was able to look upon a vast see of grey, white, and black, and see no end to it.

"Impressive sight," the man next to him yawned, not so impressed.

Grant threw a glance over at him. Standing next to him was Supreme Admiral Balan, a man known for his disdain of everything except himself. Balan was what some might have said a political genius as much a military braniac. He had over the past year brought the five factions of the Empire together, to recreate a truly united Empire. Some he had simply had their leaders assassinated, while others he had convinced to join him.

"Indeed sir," Grant nodded, "At long last we can retake what is rightfully ours."

"I still do not know if I like using clones again General," Balan snorted, "I'd rather have us use _real _people and not these fakes."

"They are from the Thrawn Era sir," Grant said, rolling his eyes at yet having to once again defend them, "They are the best we have. And besides, human stormtroopers are becoming more and more scarce. Even Army troopers are getting hard to come by. And besides, these so happen to have been cloned using Mandalorian Berserker DNA as well."

"Yes, yes," Balan waved his hand in a dismissive manner, "You have ever so eloquently defended your pets General."

"They are not my pets, sir," Grant replied softly.

"They are outside the normal order of things," Balan snapped, "Remember, even the Jedi during the Clone Wars hated them. I remember the look on Plo Koon's face when he was assigned the 77th Fighter Squadron."

Grant looked at him curiously. "You fought during the Clone Wars sir?" he asked, but Balan did not answer the question.

There was a couple hurried feet running up towards them and Grant turned around. They were naval officers that had followed Balan down to the planet. They looked haggard from the continual work at keeping everything running smoothly.

"Sir," one of them saluted, not towards Grant but towards the turned back of Balan.

"What is it Captain Fyyar?" Balan asked, not turning around to face his second-in-command.

"Moff Tyron wishes you to make contact immediately," he announced, sweat pouring down his face, "May I ask sir why you turned off your link?"

"No you may not Captain!" Balan sharply replied, "Now go back to the _Umbara_."

Captain Fyyar threw a glare at Balan before turning on his heel and hurrying off. Balan was a hated man, but he had achieved his status as Supreme Admiral through hard and dirty combat. Hated? Yes he was. Respected? Better believe it.

"I wonder what Moff Tyron wants you for?" Grant ventured to ask.

Balan spat a thick blue liquid onto the ground. "I hate politicians. Even one who heads all military operations."

Moff Tyron's blue hologram flickered as it stood there. Despite the very obvious technological advantages of the Galactic Empire over its wayward brothers, there still had yet to be a way to fully improve holographic technology. Moff Tyron struck Derk as a man not to be toyed with, despite his rumored leanings towards the peace elements of the Moff Council. But, Derk Grant was not the man in charge of the planned assault, Balan was. And as such, it was Balan who was needing to be addressed by the Moff, not Derk.

"How goes the progress Admiral Balan?" Tyron asked, quiet clearly not using his full title. Derk smiled at the obvious anguish it gave his counterpart.

"It goes well Moff," Balan said, his back as rigid as a board, "The attack should go forward as planned. I am just waiting upon Grand Admiral Pealleon to arrive with his task force of twelve Victory-Class Star Destroyers. Then, we should capture the planet without much delay."

"Postpone the attack Admiral," Tyron ordered.

Balan's eye narrowed, and a thunderbolt of surprise shot through Grant. What was that? Tyron had been the one to green-light the project before they launched the offensive. This offensive was meant to end the war, drive the vaunted New Republic to its knees and end the war. Why the sudden change in orders so close to D-Hour?

"May I ask why Moff Tyron?" Balan asked, trying not to grind his teeth.

"I have made contact with a very important member of the New Republic a couple weeks ago," Tyron replied, holding up his hands in a Not-My-Fault manner, "And we are starting peace talks between us and them."

"But surely you can't be serious," Balan shot back, his control slipping and his hands starting to shake to his side, "We are ready to strike at Alderaan, Caamas, Tepasi, Anaxes, Brentaal, to name just a few. The task forces are ready to attack."

"I've already given orders to those commanders to hold their positions until they get further orders," Tyron snapped, his features twisting from kindly to anger, "I also had to recall Pealleon back to another threatened sector that by a fools incompetance has been left wide open to attack."

"Everything is ready and are ready though!" Balan slammed a fist onto the holo projector, "This attack has bigger implications! Ones we've talked about at length. You cannot-"

"Cannot what?" Tyron snapped, "Who rules this Empire? You or the Moff Council?"

Balan sighed. He was cornered with that. He bowed his head and said, "Yes sir."

"Good," Tyron said, melting back to the kindly gentlemen, "Now, hold off the attack."

The holograph flickered and died. Balan's head shot up, a nasty smile across his face. He turned to Grant and nodded his head.

"The alliance between the various factions is wavering at best," Balan told Grant, punching in several numbers, "This attack has to be accelerated. If we do not launch the attacks, the alliance will crumble. One lost sector means nothing in the grand scheme. That's what his worshipfulness does not realize. We need an Emperor. Only an Emperor can lead this Empire and keep it together."

"And you plan to be that Emperor?" Grant snorted.

"There is few if any that could contend with me," Balan shrugged his shoulders, "Not even the Moff Council would deny me that when this is over."

"I know of a man who can," Grant said.

"And who is that?" Balan threw a scowling face at him.

"Adol Ha," Grant said.

"Adol Ha was a traitor to the Empire," Balan replied with a huff, "His helping to overthrow Triculus helped bring about the current crises. But I forgot, you were his pupil."

"I learned all I could from him," Grant said.

"Even if that is the case," Balan replied, "It was Ha who lost Coruscant for us. Not Triculus."

"I was there at that battle sir," Grant replied softly, "And I know what really happened. Triculus nearly destroyed one of our fleets that day."

"I am not saying Ha was not a competent leader," Balan said soothingly, "But, I also knew Ha from the days of the Academy. I knew him quiet well. Indeed, Ha had no rivals. Indeed, in truth, Ha had one real enemy. His lust for power."


	7. The Fight for Peace

**Chapter 7: The Fight For Peace**

Borsk Fey'lya sat behind his desk, data pads scrambled across the top, his console lit up. He never was going to get all through these, especially today, his secretary Montr off on his anniversary with his sixth wife. So much had to be done, so little time. He had tried to sort it by urgent, and not so urgent. But, being Chief-of-State did not necessarily mean you suddenly were able to do such things fast. In fact, sometimes the exact opposite seemed to be true.

Not only that, but he had also been greeted by six of Dantooine's ruling body, demanding more funds funneled into their colony. He also had met with Senator Wroosk from Kassyyyk, who was so angry with Senator Jail Nornon from New Alderaan that he had nearly ripped the human's arms out of their sockets. And it wasn't even 1300 Hours Courscant Time.

The door chimed and he snapped suddenly, bellowing across the room, "Let me be in peace!"

A small holograph flickered and the head of his personal guard, a Human from Coruscant, appeared. The man saluted the Chief-of-State with a crisp salute and Borsk sighed. What was so important?

"Yes Captain Jaener," he rubbed his forehead, "What is it?"

"Master Skywalker has arrived and requested a audience with your Honor," the Captain announced, never having adhered to the formality of calling the Chief-of-State "Your Eminence."

A small flicker of hope rose inside of Borsk. Perhaps today would be a good day after all if the Jedi Master himself came calling. He leaned back and nodded his head.

"Send him in," Borsk said, and as the holograph flickered away, he let out an exasperated sigh.

The doors slid apart, and in his traditional black Jedi robes entered Master Luke Skywalker. Borsk personally had never liked the man, especially after the incident on Ralphar Twelve, but Skywalker had to be respected. The man was a hard working man, and being the only Jedi out there he had to carry a heavy load. Much like Borsk himself.

"What can I do for you Master Skywalker?" he asked, not rising to greet him. Rank did come with its privileges.

"It's more of what I can do for you, Your Eminence," Skywalker said, not asking for a seat but taking one anyways, "I can make a lot of your troubles blow away."

"You sound like a spice miner trying to heckle me in the streets of Jabiim," Borsk chuckled.

"I'd be a bit more successful with you then he I am sure," Skywalker said with a sly smile.

_Did he just call me weak minded?_ Borsk thought to himself. The very idea was appalling. Borsk Fey'lya was probably the most strong-minded person Skywalker would ever come across. Let the Jedi try his mind games on him.

"Maybe," he said aloud, "And what can you help me with?"

"Ending the war," Skywalker said.

Borsk didn't smile, but his fur raised slightly in the pleasure motion. Indeed he was glad. "Then you approve _Operation: Empire at War_?" he asked excitedly, "We can break the shifty alliance the Imperial Remnant is currently enjoying and have them at each other's throats, and as they bleed each other dry, we can mop up the remnants."

"Actually," Skywalker said, "I propose a new operation."

Fey'lya's fur flattened slightly. "Oh?" he asked slowly, "And what is that?"

"_Operation: Olive Branch_," Skywalker said, staring straight at the Bothan.

"That doesn't sound very military-like," Fey'lya remarked, then to twist the knife a bit, "_General _Skywalker."

"The original mission of the Jedi Order was to be peace-keepers," Skywalker replied, not taking offense at the obvious slight, "And I believe I can be that. A Peace-Maker."

"Are you referring to your meeting with Moff Tyron?" Borsk asked, his mind flashing back to the report filed three days ago by Skywalker.

"Indeed, I have recently been in contact with Moff Tyron," Skywalker pointed out, "But I also have other contacts in the Galactic Empire. All of which I have talked to recently. From their descriptions to me, the Empire is ready to end this war."

"What do you propose, General?" Borsk asked.

"Send a delegation to a neutral world," Skywalker said, the tips of his fingers lightly touching each other, "There, we can hammer out a peace accord."

Borsk shook his head. "No," he said.

"Why not?" Skywalker asked, staring intently at the Chief-of-State.

"The Senate must put forward the motion and vote for it to happen," Borsk said, standing up, "And not only that, but every delegation we have sent has been slapped away."

"We have never sent one," Skywalker pointed out.

"And a good thing too," Borsk said, walking towards a window, "The Empire has not either."

"Because they are proud," Skywalker said, standing up and walked around the table to stand by the Chief-of-State's side, who he dominated by almost a full-head, "As we are. But, if we are willing to act first, let them know we are willing to deal, and allow them to save face, we could really end this war."

"I will confide in you Skywalker," Borsk sighed, "I'd rather see every Imperial on the altar of freedom and pay for the blood they have spilt. Every single one of them. Man, woman and child. None deserve to live after what they have done to us. To the Galaxy."

"Shall everyone be held responsible for the faults of their leaders?" Skywalker asked.

"They should," Borsk said, staring out into the Coruscant traffic, "No mercy to the Empire is what I say."

Skywalker stood silent for the moment. Then, he bowed and said, "I will leave then." And with that, he turned and began to head off.

"Skywalker," Borsk said suddenly, turning to him, "Can we ever have peace?"

"Sir?" Skywalker asked, half turning to him.

"I am filled with such rage and hatred towards them," he said, "And so is every other person in this Republic. And the Remnant towards us. I fear peace might never happen."

"I will make sure we get it," Skywalker said, and with that, resumed his walk out of the room.

* * *

><p>Jacen and Jaina squeeled in obvious delight as they saw Uncle Luke walk through their door. They ran as fast as their small legs could carry them, and Luke let them almost reach him. Then, lifting his hand, they both pitched off the ground, levitating a couple feet above. As they screamed in delight, he twisted his fingers and they began to spin round and round in the air. Chewbacca, sitting in the corner, barked laughter at the absurdity of the scene.<p>

"Why Luke," Leia called out from the kitchen, "I didn't expcet you here today."

"Thought I'd just drop by for a moment," Luke said, slowing the spinning of his sister's children to prevent them from getting sick from a sudden stop all over the new carpet.

"Oh Master Luke," C-3PO said, hurrying out of a nearby room, "It's so good to see you. I have heard the most ridiculous rumors today."

Luke rolled his eyes a bit, sitting down on a chair and levitating the children over to his lap. "Lay it on me."

* * *

><p>Luke sat on the railing of his balcony to his apartment, legs crossed. His eyes were closed, and as he sat there, he meditated. He could feel every mind here on Coruscant, every desire, every lust, every need, every thought. They flowed as one. Like a river.<p>

The self-proclaimed Grand Jedi Master could feel it. A sickness. A sickness that had grown with the continuing war. Almost every family here on Coruscant had been affected one way or the other by the conflict. Some had lost family. Some had been driven from their homes, coming here as refugees. Some had lost everything to the war.

But, here and there, he could feel it. The power that some had obtained. He could feel their growing power as the war continued. Some were criminals that grew rich on the black market, giving much needed supplies to worlds on the battle front at hipped up prices. Some were politicians who were getting rich in land as the owners were forced to leave, the taxes to continue the war driving them to the ground. And the banks. Those cursed banks! How they delighted in war. War is good for profit.

He could feel her walk up to the door. Every motion of her body he could detect. He even saw her reach up to ring his door chime in his mind's eye. But, even as he opened the doors with a small twitch of his finger, he could also feel her surprise.

"Ah," Leia Organa Solo called out as she looked upon him, him literally feeling her eyes on his back, "I see you are meditating."

"I need guidance," he said, his voice coming as if not from himself, but from another place and time.

"Borsk Fey'lya told me about your meeting," she said, "But you probably know that if you have been meditating long enough."

"I felt you leave his office when I finally reached the meditation state," he smiled slightly, "How well you know me sister."

"I know how powerful you are becoming," Leia said, now by his side, and looking out upon the scene of heavy traffic going through the sky lanes above Coruscant.

Luke opened his eyes and lifted himself off the railing and back behind it. He leaned onto it, and putting a hand onto his sisters' shoulder, sighed deeply. No words were passed between them as they looked out upon the horizon, Coruscant's sun falling behind the mountain range far off.

"This war has to end," he said finally after a minute of silence.

"If it could be won," Leia sighed.

"No," Luke said, "It has to end. Even if we have to sign a treaty with the Imperial Remnant."

"But Luke," she turned to him, pulling back a bit, "The Empire is evil. You know that. And they still control a fifth of this galaxy. Billions of lives depend on our continuing this war. To its bitter end."

"We always speak about saving billions of lives," Luke replied, looking out at the sunset, "But how many more half-victories? How many more super-weapons? How many systems will be destroyed, literally by this war? Hate and anger are driving us down a path we shouldn't follow."

"But this war is the way to free those billions from enslavement Luke," Leia sighed, "I realize it's not the Jedi way to fight war, but you have to think about the larger picture. Who this war is benefitting, not destroying."

"Benefitting," Luke chuckled to himself, "Who it's benefitting is not always clear is it?"


	8. Battlezone

**Chapter 8: Battlezone**

The Republic commander walked at the head of his company of fifty-nine men and three women. It was mostly a human contingency, with a Mon Cal as their singular alien member. Telti was a planet of unusual beauty and vibrancy, the dense foliage lifting mist as they passed and changing to different colors. Here was the closest to Coruscant the Imperials were, in the Inner Rim. But, there was still the Colonies that were between them and the Core Worlds, and Coruscant, and this was more of a single garrison of battered Imperial troops, all but nearly pushed out.

"Commander," the communications officer called out, moving up by his side, "Command wants us to push towards the South Canyon. From there we can flank the Imperial Garrison."

"All right Comm Officer Jauyn," he said, "Reply that orders received and acknowledged. Move out people."

With that, he pulled out his holomap of the area, and spotted the Canyon about three klicks from their present position. Turning towards the north, he headed off and his command followed him.

"So Snaker," one of the humans said to the Mon Cal, walking by his side, "You said you originally served during the Clone Wars."

"I did," Snaker said, the damp air doing wonders on his throat, "Served with Ackbar when he was a mere Captain of the Mon Calamari Army. That was a glorious time to be alive."

"How so?" he asked, looking up at the Mon Cal, blaster rifle in hand, "The Old Republic was crumbling. The Separatists were causing havoc."

"True," Snaker closed his eyes, "But the Jedi Order was still around. I remember the likes of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-wan Kenobi. Kit Fisto and so many more. We had enough to eat, and we lived like kings. But now..."

"I agree," the human nodded, "This was is proving to be a great nuisance. My family is currently living in poverty. Very few on the world of Caamas are out of poverty. And the same with just about every other planet I hear. Except for the Core Worlds."

"They know not war," the Mon Cal nodded his large head.

An explosion tore into the center of the group, killing five instantly. The momentary confusion was added when bolts of lasers started tearing through them. Snaker collapsed as a bolt passed through his shoulder. Three more also fell.

"Take cover!" The commander shouted, pulling out his blaster, "And return fi-"

He didn't even finish before he collapsed, and bolt passing through his heart. The remaining soldiers dropped to the ground or ran for fallen logs, only to be shot down as they did so. Screams and curses echoed as they blindly started firing in the directions they were being shot at, but the fire was coming from every direction.

"Command!" the comms officer shouted into his comlink, "We've been ambushed! Requesting immediate evac."

"No go," the voice came back, "We've been hit all along the lines. The Imperials have forced us to abandon our forward positions. You are on your -"

Static began to interrupt everything being said and the man screamed in rage. His closest comrade, who just happened to be his wife, looked over at him, bolts flying dangerously close.

"They've jamme-" he collapsed forward as a sizzling holt suddenly appeared in the back of his head. Screaming in rage and hatred, she stood up, rifle pressed against her waist and began to spray the woods in front of her but she soon fell backwards from multiple blaster wounds in her torso.

The remaining fifteen soldiers soon threw down their weapons, two trying to flee before a thermal detonator blew up, taking not only them out, but also three other surrender men. The fire slackened then stopped, and from barely a couple yards away stood up six Stormtrooper commandos. They wore armor that with a push of the button could camouflage into any environment. And even now they were taking fingers off of buttons.

"On your knees Rebels," one of them said, and they slowly followed what they were instructed to do.

"Lord Verraad will be pleased," one of them said, laughing at the bewildered looks on his captives faces.

"_Lord Verraad will be pleased_," a silky voice chuckled and coming out of the brush was a dark robed man, towering by at least a foot above the stormtroopers, "Lord Verraad will only be pleased by the brutal and uncompromising destruction of all enemies to the Empire."

"We will transport them back to the prison ships immediately," one of them proudly saluted.

"No," Verraad said, looking at the prisoners, "No survivors."

And with that, he turned his palm upwards, and spread out his fingers. Then, slowly he began to raise up his hands, and the ten prisoners slowly began to rise in the air. They screamed in terror, the only remaining woman began to cry, and they began to kick savagely in the air. When they were about ten feet off the ground, he crushed his fist and with multiple snaps like gunshots, every bone and muscle in the prisoners bodies broke and with a wave of his hand the prisoners dropped to the ground. He walked up to the woman, still gasping for breath as she died, and bending low kissed her. She shuddered and died, his cold lips pressed against her lips, the life force in every cell draining from her and he felt a cold surge of energy rushing through his body, the cells regenerating, his life expanded by untold number of years.

When he had gained his full share, he stood up and turned to the commandoes. They knew his reputation, and even though they tried to hide it, they saw through the parting of his hood his lips sneer as he felt their fear.

"I have an Empire to gain," he said and walked away, the bodies left to rot.


	9. I, Moff

**Chapter 9: I, Moff**

Moff Tyron walked into the Moff Council Chamber on Bastion, current capitol of the Galactic Empire. Called the Fortress of the Galaxy, it had a reputation for its heavy defenses. Indeed, with thirty Golan-II Space Defense SpaceGun and fifteen Golan-III Space Defense NovaGuns, the planet was a virtually impregnable, even without the thirty _Imperial_-Class Star Destroyer task force assigned to the planet and thirty thousand man garrison. These facts didn't even cross his mind as he entered the room.

The Disra Palace was a building of great beauty, and even as he looked around at the gathered Moffs, he was again impressed by the sheer details of the gold and platinum linings around the wall, and the circular table that was shaped like the Imperial Insignia, the center cut out. This table was built using the finest wood from Naro XII, stronger than most wood, but also extremely light. It was also painted grey, as everything else in the Empire. A great chandelier of Hapes crystals floated in the air, the light from within painting the room in multicolor rainbows. Much like the Senate House on Coruscant.

He looked at the gathered group. There was six men besides himself in the room. Moff Gislar from Yaga Minor was a man one could describe as well rounded, his body shaped like a large egg where his head, arms and legs had been afterthoughts. Moff Vizer from Muunilinst was a balding man, wearing finery unlike any he had seen over his imperial garb. Moff Dray from Comman was a hefty man who had a disease that was slowly eating him away, but no one had the heart to tell this man who had been with the Empire from its founding to retire. These three were on one side of the table.

On the other side was Moff Daala, the singular female representative on the Council. She had served the military faithfully in the Maw Installation before it fell to the Skywalker led assault force. Moff Tyber sat next to her, his hand on hers. The Kon native and her had been have an illicit affair and he wondered if that was the reason this woman had been placed on the council. But Tyber had a sound mind of judgment.

And sitting at what one could consider the head was Grand Moff Geron. He was the worst of Palpatine's old cronies from the old days, next only to Lord Vader. His coup'de'tae of the Grand Vizer Sate Pestage after Triculus' death had been masterful, and he had been the greatest voice of continuing the war. Daala had been next loudest voice, but her pregnancy had tamed her a bit and the rest were still committed to a war they all knew they were losing and were destined to fail but too stubborn to admit it.

"This had better be important Moff Tyron," Geron sniffed, "I have other matters to attend to."

"A week ago I made contact with Jedi Master Luke Skywalker," he announced, and to that there was an outburst of disapproval. Skywalker's leadership had within the past three years since the Thrawn Crisis had driven the Empire back by nearly sixty systems and was one of many factors to their continual defeats.

"Why would you do that?" Moff Tyber asked with a scrutinizing glare.

"I went to see where the state of mind of the New Republic is to continuing the war with us," Tyron replied.

"Ah, so you were spying," Dray nodded, "So, tell us Tyron, what does our good Jedi Master say to it?"

"The Republic is sick with the war," Tyron announced, "they don't want to continually have to be at war. The refugees on Coruscant are many. They can't afford to keep fighting us forever."

"Good!" Geron nodded excitedly, "Then they are ready to surrender."

"Not quiet," Tyron said, "You miss my point entirely. I know for a fact they have a plan so daring and yet so perfect that they cannot fail to destroy us and come in afterwards and pick up the pieces. I bring forward to this Council a proposal."

"What is this proposal?" Daala asked.

"We enter peace talks with the New Republic," Tyron said, nearly blurting it out, "And work out a peace accord beneficial to both sides."

"You mean surrender," Dray snorted.

"Not surrender," Tyron said, leaning onto the table.

"We can still fight!" Geron scoffed, "Thrawn proved it. We can still take the fight to the enemy and win this war."

"Thrawn was a born genius," Tyron pointed out, "And he had a united Empire to work with. The fleets were still intact."

"What are you saying?" Moff Gislar asked.

"Can you not see?" Tyron said angrily, slamming his fist on the table, "The Empire is in shambles. Our alliance with the rest of the factions of the Empire is slipping. Our armies and fleets are decimated, hollow shells of their former glory. We can't even keep their spies at bay. Our people are suffering from our inability to keep them properly supplied with energy, flows of food."

"We can pull out of it," Vizer said, stroking his flowing mustache, "Muunilinst can-"

"Can what?" Tyron asked vehemently, "Our currency is almost worthless!"

"Peace talks would only end in disaster anyways," Geron shrugged, "Not even a honorable victory."

"But we could save face," Tyron said, then turning to the group as a whole said, "Fellow Moffs, comrades...even friends. Let us not continue this war that will destroy us. Daala and Tyber, do you really wish your child to be brought up in an Empire that has died? That has no honor? And you Dray. You could finally get the attention you need to live, or retire and die knowing you created peace.

"Vizer, your credits would finally flourish and gain real value again. Or better yet, you could finally find something besides money that means a kiff to you. Gislar, you could finally have time to go find your wife and your little property of Yaga Major you always are telling us about. Vote for peace. I beg you friends, think of the future. Think of our future."

He let the words sink in. He slowly scanned the room, and what he saw amazed him. Vizer had his head bowed, in shame. Daala and Tyber were looking at each other, and it was only now that Tyron realized there was real love behind their affair, that they really did care for each other and the child she was carrying. Dray had his hand to his face, wincing at the pain it caused him. He was not looking at anything in particular, just staring. And Gislar had tears streaming from his eyes, finally seeing the opportunity he had been hoping for to have a small bit of happiness.

"Vote now," Geron said, smiling at Tyron. It was not a pleasant smile, but one that said everything Tyron feared.

"Peace," Gislar said, "We've had enough war."

"Vizer votes for Peace," Vizer said, referring to himself in the third person as was his want.

"I will not have my child grow up in the Republic or in a dead Empire," Daala said, "Peace."

"Peace," Tyber said, "I promised Daala I'd marry her when this war ended."

Dray sat for a moment, lost in thought. "I am dying," he said slowly, "And I know that I will never get the treatment I need to live. But I will not die in an shattered Empire. I vote for peace."

"I will not allow this!" Geron snapped, leaping to his feet, "No peace!"

"The majority has ruled," Tyron replied calmly, "We will send a peace delegation to them."

Geron fumed and he darted from person to person, hate in his eyes. "Do you really want peace with those rebels?" he asked, grinding his teeth, "They have taken from us our honor and pride. They will never let us live in peace. Mark my words, this is not the end, but the beginning of a war that will last hundreds of years."

"We will not continue this fight," Vizer said, glaring at him, "So sit down and shut up. Your Honor."

Geron fumed but sat down. He had been beaten and he knew it.

"Send your delegation," he snarled.

"Oh," Tyron said, "and in order for this to work, we need new leadership."

"New?" Geron asked suspiciously, "What?"

"You and Borsk Fey'lya are too much hate driven for there to be a peace," he said, "As such, we need new heads of state to bring this about. I call now that we move to remove Geron as Grand Moff and vote on who would lead us to peace."

"A new Grand Moff?" Tyber laughed out loud, slapping the table, "What? Are you mad? There is only one person qualified to do that."

Dray nodded, "Indeed."

"And prey tell who that would be?" Tyron asked, Geron looking like he had been struck in the heart.

"You of course," Dray shrugged, "You started this peace process. See us through to the end."

The group nodded their approval. One by one they said "Aye" except for Geron, who weakly said "Nay". But, the Ayes had it. And within ten minutes, Moff Tyron had been elevated from a simple Moff to Grand Moff.


	10. I, Jedi

**Chapter 10: I, Jedi**

"We cannot allow the Core Worlds to hold back from taking refugees from the front," the Wookie senator shouted, one of the few wookies who had a translator nod surgically implanted by the Imperials, "the Expansion and Colony World simply can't take on so many new bodies."

"Why should the Core Worlds have to suffer a continual influx of refugees?" the Senator from Duro retorted, "We aren't made out of money and don't have endless lands you know. That's what the Colonies and Expansion regions are for after all!"

"But we have not the resources to house so many new people," the wookie replied, "And even if we did, many of our worlds are simply still too hostile to support large numbers of people. The Core Worlds do though, and it's time they pulled their fair share of this problem."

"'Fair Share'?" the senator asked in mock shock, "My dear Senator Vroo, by the way you speak, our fair share would be the rest of every refugee that came through. How many of us really want another family living in our crowded apartments?"

Vroo slammed his fist against the panel of his hovering pod, "I am sure you Core Worlds are simply hiding your selfish interests with these weak arguments. Senator Chambers, you talk about space? We simply don't have it!"

"Because your planets are covered in filthy mansions that could be used for apartment buildings," Chambers shouted back, "Get responsible for your own places Expansion and Colony worlds!"

There was a chorus of applauds and boos that shifted with each of these two senators comments. They were the leaders of both side of this debate that had grown more and more strongly as the both Imperial and Republic forces dug their heels in and bitterly fought over planets of strategic import. The Imperials, down to only nineteen percent of their original Empire, had been given orders not to give anymore ground without heaps of dead, both military and civilians. By the day thousands of more people arrived at worlds safely behind the warzone, where they could live in peace.

Borsk had really kind of stopped listening to them, and instead had in his hands a holonovel. As he read the pages, and listened to the sounds of their voices in the background, his mind conjured up ways to end this war. Peace? He snorted at the very word. There could be no peace.

A chime sounded out as another pod wished to enter the political arena. He looked up from his novel and saw Master Skywalker and he gratefully jumped up from his seat. He pushed a finger on a button, which rang out three loud chimes, and the whole Senate began to calm down.

"While I am all sure we are simply invigorated by this continuous," he sighed, "And I mean continuous debate, I think it's time we listened to someone else for a change, don't you?" There was a small spattering of laughter. "The Chair recognizes our very own, Jedi Master and General of the Republic, Luke Skywalker."

Luke listened to the thundering applause by people desperate to hear the words of someone else. He took a deep breath and pushing a button, the pod swung out, him alone on the pod. He could both feel and sense all eyes turn to him, everyone wondering what he had to say. He looked over at the two senators and saw they had not returned to their places, which he was grateful for. He needed them just as much as he needed anything.

"Honorable representatives of the Republic," he said, his voice booming throughout the room, "We stand here on a difficult issue. Refugees. Senator Vroo, I understand your position on taking refugees on your planets. I am a native to Tatooine, and we truly don't have the resources to handle such large numbers of refugees. Would you say that is a fair essement?"

Vroo nodded his head enthusiastically, "I do indeed. Furthermore-"

Luke held up his hand, "I still have the floor Senator. But, I also agree with Senator Chambers. The Core Worlds are over populated as it is. Some might say a good nuke could take care of a lot of that problems, but that is cold and callus. Everyone has a right to their own space, no matter how small it is."

"I agree," Senator Chambers began, "And I would have to say, it's good sense on your part."

"Thank you," Luke nodded, "But, the real issue here is not what we should do with refugees, but it is this. Should we continue on such a tragic war?"

"What do you mean Master Skywalker?" a Senator, Luke believed it was the one from New Alderaan called out.

"We always think of war, war," Luke shook his head, "But have we never stopped to consider peace might be alternative?"

"Peace?" Senator Vroo roared out, "My people have suffered much at the hands of the Empire! There can never be peace!"

"But," Luke said, "We can't even keep our children going to school every day. Or keep electricity running. We have thousands of people pouring into our planets, looking for safety. They wouldn't need to if the war was over."

"The Empire has to be destroyed!" "No Peace without Victory!" "Death to the Empire!" Shouts like these and more echoed throughout the hall.

"And how many more will die?" Luke asked, "How many more families will be wiped out? How much further will we allow to go into debt? How many more planets have to wiped off the face of the map before we can come to our senses?"

"Your goals are admirable Skywalker," Borsk Fey'lya stepped into the conversation, "We do want prosperity and peace. But why should we given the evil nature of the Empire?"

"How much blood is on our hands?" Luke asked softly, but the question silenced everyone, "By my hands alone millions of good, honest men are dead. Men following orders."

"I have been at the hands of men following orders," Vroo snarled, "Never again. Everyone in the Empire is evil."

"Not every man in the Empire is evil," Luke pointed out, "Not every man in the Republic is good either. How many here in revenge have ordered surrendering Imperials to be shot? How many times have we left soldiers to suffocate in space, because they wore Imperial garb? Even now we debate trying to shift responsibility for our brothers and sisters onto others and not accept our responsibilities as sentient beings. We most certainly cannot say we are that much better then they."

"But they are racist," Chambers pointed out, "And sexist."

"Are we not racist in our core?" Luke asked, "Do we not view Imperials as an evil race? How many here say wookies are nothing but brutes? That humans are nothing more than a weak subspecies? That the Hutt are slimy creatures? I certainly have said the last, being under their thumbs my entire early life. I doubt anyone here is free from racism. As for sexist, well, that is the only thing we can claim over the Imperials."

"Let us say for a second we decided to go and propose peace to the Imperials," a senator asked, "How do we know they would accept it?"

"Because as of 900 Hours Coruscant Time the Imperial Moff Council voted out their war leader, Grand Moff Geron and voted for a peace delegation to be sent to the New Republic to discuss a cessetation of hostilities," Luke announced and there was a burst of excited and stunned conversation.

"Order!" Borks shouted, "We shall have order!"

"The Empire knows it cannot win this war," Luke said, "so instead, they wish to make peace. But, they have one condition though. Borsk Fey'lya be removed as Chief-of-State and the cooler head of Leia Organa Solo be placed in that position."

Luke felt a burst of shock and fear and he looked over at Borsk, who darted back and forth with his eyes.

"You have no proof of any of this Skywalker," Borsk said, "And I should have you arrested for saying that!"

Luke pulled out a data card and shoved it into the holo projector, and out in middle of the floor stood a massive hologram of an Imperial Moff. The entire room went quiet as they listened to this recording of the Moff speaking with Luke.

_"I am grateful your Council voted you in Grand Moff Tyron. You are a true ally in the Empire. I again congratulate you on your election."_

_"Thank you Skywalker. And indeed, we wish to begin peace talks with the New Republic as soon as possible before this war destroys not only the Galactic Empire, but wrecks the Galaxy at large."_

_"I am sure that Chief-of-State Borsk Fey'lya will be more than happy to receive your delegation Grand Moff."_

_"No, you and I both know he is too much a warmonger for the peace process. I can only imagine he would do all he could to hinder it, and perhaps even prevent it in his current position, General Skywalker. We need your sister, who despite her own losses at the hands of the Empire, has still a bit of Jedi blood in her. She must lead the New Republic if we ever want peace."_

The holograph disappeared, leaving the audience to themselves. A vast silence was over the group and Luke knew he had won. Slowly, Luke said, "Vote now. Vote now for peace or war."


	11. The Ambitions of Power

**Chapter 11: The Ambitions of Power**

"The vote is in," the announcer boomed across Coruscant, "With sixty-one percent to thirty-nine percent, Chief of State Borsk Fey'lya has been voted out of office. With a resounding seventy-five percent against twenty-five percent, Leia Organa Solo has been elected to succeed him as Chief-of-State. And with her first official act, is to call a delegation to work out a peace treaty with the Galactic Empire and its new Head of Government, Grand Moff Tyron."

"I never knew you were such a crafty Politician," Leia said, frowning at Luke from across the table they were sitting at.

"Being a Jedi Master has it's privileges," Luke grinned.

Han Solo sat back in his chair, legs laid up on the table, the kids off to bed so no need to be bothered with trying to set a good example. He did not seem all that happy at all. Chewbacca sat in the corner, his legs crossed, doing a form of wookie meditation he had learned after his rescue from the Imperial slavers.

"Luke," Han snorted, "I realize as her big brother you got to look out for her, but what good is it to throw her to the political rancors?"

Luke shrugged, "I thought you didn't care that she was spending so much time working for the Republic."

"It's not that," Han said, closing his eyes, "She isn't home enough as it is, and I don't want her to be continually pushed so much."

"Why Han," Leia said in a mock gasp, placing his fingertips on the base of base of her neck, "I do believe you are jealous."

"No," he said, "I am not."

Chewbacca barked a few grunts out and Han glared at him. "Absolutely not!" he snapped, "Leia will never go with Senator Chambers!"

"Chewie has a point," Luke said, "He's got money and you don't."

Han pointed a finger at him and warned, "Don't push it kid."

The other three burst out into a good natured laugh at the obvious discomfort of Han.

* * *

><p>Supreme Admiral Balan could not believe his eyes. There was actually going to be peace talks between the Republic and the Galactic Empire. His plans to retake what rightfully belonged to the Empire was brought to another agonizing stop. He leaned back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling.<p>

Surely this could not happen. With over an entire decade of war between the two sides, how could they so easily come to terms with each other? It did not seem right at any juncture or have any logic behind it. Or at least, the logic escaped him.

He sat up as the door chimed and after a sad, "Come in", Derk Grant walked into the room. He didn't look too happy, if the look on his face was any indicator.

"What Grant?" he asked, "What brings you here?"

"I have been selected to be part of the peace delegation to met with the Republic," he sighed, not even standing at attention.

"Sorry to hear that," Balan rolled his eyes, "Who else are going to be part of this fool's errand?"

"Grand Moff Tyron, Moff Dray and Supreme Commander Pealleon," he said.

"Dray has a good eye on politics and Gilead is a good soldier," Balan nodded, "Any word on who is going to be part of the Republic delegation?"

"All we know for certain is that Chief-of-State Solo will be there," Grant shrugged, "Beyond that, there is only speculation."

Balan didn't really look up at him as through him. "Let us talk candidly. As two men. Call me Joshn."

"Derk," Grant said, and took Balan's eye gesture for what they were and sat down.

"So Derk," Balan asked, looking over at him, "Do you think that this will really signal the end of our war and conflict? This peace delegation."

"I think they will try their hardest," Grant said slowly.

"Problem is this," Balan said, "Even if they do go forward with these pathetic talks, people will still die. Despite the orders saying we are to halt all advances and have a truce until the talks are over. People will still kill each other on both sides."

"Even if we get peace," Grant said, "It won't last."

"I know that," he grunted and put his hand on the table in front of him, "Derk, I created this alliance. The five factions of the Galactic Empire have finally come together like they haven't been since the Thrawn Incursion. But once the New Republic is no longer at war with us, who will stay? No one. They all have their own agendas. We will fracture, and when that happens, you know what happens?"

"Invasion," Derk grumbled, "The Hutts will finally see a chance to attack. They haven't dare for some reason because of this war, but once it calms down, they'll come after us. So will the Hapes Consortium. Despite their neutral and xenophobic stance, I know for a fact that they want a good healthy dose of revenge. And the Chiss. And the Ssi-Ruuk."

"That's not what really frightens me," Balan said, "Invasions can be thwarted. We've done it before and we can do it again."

"What then?" Grant asked, raising his eyebrows in confusion.

"An Imperial civil war unlike anything we've ever seen," Balan said so softly almost Grant couldn't hear the words.

To be continued...


End file.
